


Pick Me Up

by chimaeracabra



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dad!Steve, F/M, Fluff, Other, Protective Steve Rogers, dad!Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve spends time with his daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, I just think it's cute when guys are good dads. I still don't want kids! Best believe. This is just a fantasy. For some reason, I can really see Steve being a good father. Maybe it has something to do with the way I felt when he was discussing Wanda with Tony in Civil War. What a good guy.

           Smiling into his wallet at the same picture that he smiles at every time he opens his wallet, Steve orders a medium coffee, not even bothering to look up at the cashier in the busy hustle and bustle of early Thursday morning. He retrieves a five dollar bill, still staring at the photo of his daughter on her fifth day of life, resting in a red bandana inside the curve of the vibranium shield he'd held for so many years. He has forgotten so many times to figure out how to scan the original photo up so that he can use it as his lock screen, something constantly on the to-do list in the back of his mind. It was his turn to pick up Sasha after school, seeing as her mother was handling a double shift at the hospital that day. His wife had dropped the child off that morning, and he hadn't had the chance to wake up and wish his little girl a good day.

           

            "How's my little niece?" Natasha asks, filing behind Steve out of the board room. He turns around, continuing to walk backwards slowly.

            "Feistier by the day. I think you're a bad influence on her." He grins sideways. Natasha cocks a brow.

            "I don't want you babysitting anymore," he jokes.

            "Oh, come on. You _need_ me." Natasha elbows him in the arm on her way past him.

 

            "Did you eat your lunch today, Peggy?" Steve asks, clutching the four-year-old's hand. Sasha laughs, gazing up at him.

            "My name's Sasha," she explains, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder where he kneels, helping her tie her shoe.

            "I know, my baby. I'm the one who named you," Steve grins, doubling the laces; she had a habit of forgetting to tie them and leaving them loose to trip and scrape her knees, "Peggy is your middle name, remember?" when he looks at her again, the child is peeking between her fingers at him.

            "Sasha," she says again. He laughs lightly, scooping her up in one strong arm, clutching her Princess Tiana backpack in his free hand. Sasha blows a raspberry, gripping around Steve's neck. The spray from her mouth lightly dusts his cheek. He only smiles, turning to kiss her face. She is the tiniest ball of warmth, his heart never ceasing to beat so hard when she's near him. He never knew it was possible to love anyone so much. Sure, there are a number of people who mean the world to him, people he'd die for, but Sasha is something completely unlike anything or anyone else. He'd walk through fire for that child. As she rests her head on his shoulder, he pauses to lift the strap of her backpack further up his arm.

            "So, how about that sandwich, missy?" he asks, "Did you eat it today?" she was beyond a picky eater, and it was getting harder and harder for him and his wife to find things that she would accept.

            "Mmmm," she says, her hum causing a vibration to ripple through to his skin.

            "What's that mean?" he asks her with interest.

            "I don't like sandwiches," Sasha mumbles, pulling on the collar of Steve's shirt. He sighs with some disappointment.

            "But that's why you're always so sleepy, 'cause you won't eat anything that mommy or I pack you for lunch."

            "I ate graham cracker, apple, I ate yogurt…"

            "That's not enough, Peg," he says, knowing that he will find only the snacks eaten upon opening her lunchbox. Sasha grumbles. She pulls his collar down harder, angling towards his ear to whisper.

            "I hate sandwich," she says.

            "Mom's going to be very sad, Sasha. I thought you _liked_ grilled cheese. Remember, auntie Nat and uncle Buck made it for you last weekend?"

She screeches in frustration.

            "When we get home, I'm going to give you some chicken—"

            "No!" she screeches. Steve fishes in his pocket for the keys to the new van he'd bought shortly before Sasha was born.

            "You gotta eat enough protein, so you can grow up big and strong," he explains gently, placing the girl on the ground. She stomps her foot and blows more raspberries at him.

            "I hate sandwich! I hate chicken! I won't eat them!" she protests. Steve sighs, grinning and picking her up.

            "Don't you want to grow up into a beautiful, strong young lady?" he asks, something that Steve routinely does when Sasha puts up a fight with her food. The girl presses her feet to Steve's chest, tilting her head to the side.

            "Yes, daddy," she admits.

            "Well, then you need to start eating your sandwiches. Okay?" Sasha sighs.

            "Okay, daddy," Sasha mumbles reluctantly.

Steve helps her into her car seat, fastening the belts.

            "We're going to make a stop at the store first, Peg," he says, kissing her forehead. She absently begins to sing one of her favorite songs. He closes the door, walking around to the driver's side. He glances back at Sasha, grinning.

            "Mommy's going to be home late, so that means I'm in charge of dinner tonight," he explains.

            "Can we get ice cream?!" Sasha immediately asks, clasping her small hands together hopefully. Steve laughs.

            "Alright, Peggy. But only if you eat some _real_ food first."

            "…Ice cream _is_ real, daddy." He catches a glimpse of her confused expression in the rear view mirror. The captain laughs.

 

            He places his daughter in the shopping cart in the designated space for a small child. She places her hands atop his as he starts down the aisle. She gazes up with admiration at her father, playing with his strong forearms. With her tiny hands, she can't manage to circle them all the way around his wrist. He is the light of her world. She giggles, excited that he's allowing her to get ice cream. Steve picks up a jar of peanut butter, placing it in the cart behind Sasha. He pauses when she reaches for a box of Cheerios, picking it up off the shelf and handing it to her. Sasha smiles big as she clutches it in both arms.

            "You still like that one?" he asks. She'd been eating Cheerios since her teeth came in. Sasha nods fervently.

            "Let me put it back here so you don't drop it, okay?"

Sasha allows him to take the box and place it in the cart. He's glad she at least likes to eat cereal, the healthy kind. Neither Steve, nor Sasha's mother intended to introduce her to anything with more sugar. He starts through the meat aisle, wanting to save the ice cream for last. Maybe Sasha will even forget about it.

            "I want strawberry ice cream, daddy," she states just as soon as he has the thought.

            "Yes, ma'am," he says cheerfully. Sasha laughs, clutching his big hand on the cart's handle, pulling on him excitedly. She stares up at him with anticipation as he selects a chicken breast, placing it into the cart of growing items. He realizes she hasn't stopped smiling at him.

            "Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, anyone else but me, anyone else but me," Steve sings, stooping to place a kiss on Sasha's forehead. Looking into her eyes is like looking into her mother's eyes, his heart endlessly melting. Sasha claps.

            "Good job, daddy!" The girl hums along to his voice with familiarity; he'd been singing that song to her since she was a baby.

            "That's my girl," he says, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she turns to see which aisle he's heading down. Sasha makes ugly faces at every vegetable that Steve picks up, until he hands her a pack of strawberries and asks if she'll add them to her ice cream. Deciding that this doesn't repulse her too much, Sasha agrees. He lets her hold the strawberries until they end up in the frozen foods aisle. Sasha drops the package of fruit and Steve catches them with anticipation as the girl just about jumps out of the cart. He's quick to grab her when she manages to stand up.

            "Be _careful,_ Sasha," he says seriously, "You've gotta be careful, before you fall."

She squeals impatiently, lifting her arms and begging him to help her down. He places her at floor level, spotting the fridge with multiple ice cream flavors. He pulls the fridge open for her and she just about climbs in looking for what she wants. She grabs one carton before putting it back down, followed by another, then another, until she sees the flavor she was looking for. She grumbles when she can't reach it, literally climbing into the freezer. Steve pulls her clear out, reprimanding her. She starts to whine when he tells her again to be careful. He picks up the small carton of strawberry ice cream she was looking for, closing the freezer, and leaning down to hand it to her.

            "Is that the one you wanted?" he asks. Sasha jumps for joy, snatching it and running around the cart to the front to put it in.

            "Alright, what do you say?" he asks, walking around to pick her up. Sasha throws her arms around him.

            "Thank you, daddy!"

 

            When Sasha has finally eaten the barbeque chicken he made, Steve serves her some of the ice cream she had been dying for. He sits with her on the couch to let her eat, and once she stops bouncing, he manages to doze off. He dreams of when he and his wife found out she was pregnant. The day they set foot in this house and decided it was just the one they were looking for. All of it seems so recent, but it's been almost five years. All he knows is that he's happy, his family is safe, and there's nothing else in the world that he could want. The sensation of something stepping onto his lap causes Steve to stir. He opens his eyes gradually to find Sasha gazing down at him, her hands on his shoulders and bare feet on his thighs. She grins.

            "You fell asleep, daddy," she says. They had been watching one of her favourite movies, and those kid things often put Steve to sleep.

            "You missed Bambi," Sasha states somewhat sadly.

            "Did I? I'm sorry, sweety…Oh, lord—what time is it?" he asks, sitting up straight and taking her off his lap. Sasha looks around for the clock unknowingly. Steve checks his watch to find that it's almost 8:30. Without swearing out loud, he shakes his head.

            "It's time for bed, hon," he says calmly, picking up the empty plastic Disney princess bowl and spoon Sasha had been eating with and placing it on the coffee table. She looks tiredly at the TV, squealing slightly when he picks her up. She's bound to be in a horrible mood now. He ignores the squealing and complaining, telling her she's just sleepy, that tomorrow, he's going to take her to school and she'll get to see her friends again. He puts her in the tub, not slowing down to get her hair washed and rinsed, helping her brush her teeth, and putting her in bed, at which point, she's too tired to resist much more.

            "Where's mommy?" she asks tiredly, clutching the stuffed Bambi that Steve found under her bed.

            "At work, baby," he says. Her face saddens. She's still very much attached to her mother.

            "She'll be home in the morning, and she'll be very tired. I'm going to take care of you," he promises, kissing her forehead before turning her night light on.

            "I'm scared," she wails with hardly any energy. Steve opens the door before taking a seat in the chair beside her bed.

            "Don't be afraid. Daddy's going to wait right here until you fall asleep," he whispers, tucking the blanket under her sides. Sasha sighs and yawns, finally having calmed down. He watches her in the slightly lit room, until he can tell she's asleep. When he leaves her room, he leaves the door open, too. He makes her lunch with peanut butter and jelly on white bread, some of the barbeque chicken he'd made earlier, yogurt, carrot sticks, and an apple. He already has her breakfast planned in his head. He prepares himself for bed, sliding down into the empty queen, missing his wife. He had texted her at the register while paying for groceries, and sighs with relief to find that she had finally responded, asking him to make sure he used white bread for Sasha's sandwich. She assured him that she's okay, but it didn't stop him from worrying about her working so late some days.

            Steve tosses and turns a few moments before sleep tangles him up in its web. When he awakens, he finds his wife beside him fast asleep. Knowing she had gotten into bed only moments before he had awoken reminds him how hard she works. He passes a hand softly down her shoulder, kissing her forehead.

            "I love you," he whispers, knowing in her dreams that she can hear him. He readies himself for the day before waking Sasha, and as he looks behind him in the car as he backs out of the driveway, her tiny smile greets him full of love.


End file.
